Odds
by The Dark Knight's Revenge
Summary: Katnest Everdeen lived a normal life in the Twelfth District until his little sister was chosen in the reaping. By some accident, he is allowed to take her place. What happens when President Snow and the Hunger Games patrons decide that Katnest's ticket out of the games is a romance with fellow player Peeta Mellark? Hunger Games written with Katniss at a man.


When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My sister has gone to sleep with my mother. Of course she did, this is the day of the reaping.

I prop myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. They are beautiful together.

Prim's ugly cat lays on the bed next to them, a disgusting blob of orange fur.

I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. I pull on trousers and a shirt then brush my long hair out of my eyes with my fingers. My mother has allowed me to keep it long, even though it isn't protocol.

On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little ball of goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. My sister's gift to me on reaping day. I shove it in my pocket as I slip outside.

Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders are all inside today. Might as well sleep in when you can, the reaping wasn't set until two.

I only have to lope past a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow. Separating the Meadow from the woods, in fact enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods, but the electricity rarely comes on in our district.

I flatten out on my belly and slide under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to home I almost always enter the woods here.

As soon as I'm in the trees, I retrieve a bow and sheath of arrows from a hollow log. I use it to defend myself against the predators and catch game for food. My father taught me how to hunt before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion.

Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching carries the severest penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons. Most aren't even bold enough to venture outside with a knife. My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father along with a few others that I keep well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. My father could have made good money selling them, but if he had been caught he would have been executed for inciting a rebellion.

Most of the Peacekeeps turn a blind eyes to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry as anybody is. They're our best customers.

"District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety." I growl, scratching the thin stubble on my chin. I glanced quickly over my shoulder. Even here in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

When I was younger, I scared my mother with the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. It wasn't until I got older that I learned to hold my tongue and do the things that a man needs to do in silence.

I move through the trees quickly to the meeting spot, where I know Gale is already waiting.

"Hey Catnip." His deep voice says teasingly, making me jump. My real name is Katnest, but he calls me catnip to rile me up. Gale is older than me by a few years and treats me like another of his younger brothers.

"Look what I shot." Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck through it, and I laugh. I take it in my hands, removing the arrow and sniffing the crust. It is real bakery bread, not the flat loaves we make with our grain rations.

"What did it cost you?" I ask, eyeing him.

"Just a squirrel. The old man was feeling sentimental this morning," says Gale. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" I said, not even bothering to roll my eyes. "Prim left us cheese."

"We'll have a real feast." Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!"

He plucks a few unripe blackberries from a bush nearby and pelts me with them.

"Looks like the odds aren't in your favor." He says teasingly as I wipe the sticky juice of my clothes and face. My head jerks up in surprise.

Silence falls, and Gale's eyes widen as he realizes the meaning of his words. I turn away and begin slicing the bread.

"I'm sorry, Kat." He says honestly, coming over to tousle my short hair. I don't reply.

I'm suddenly no longer hungry, so I heap all the cheese on Gale's half of the loaf and hold it out to him. He takes it, moving back in the bushes to settle in and eat. I try to make myself take a bite of bread, but my mouth is dry.

"We could leave, you know." Gale says quietly.

"What?" I ask.

"Leave the district. Run off and live in the woods."

I don't know how to respond.

"If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly. I nod, stomach twisting. Gale's two brothers and my sister. And of course, our mothers.

"I never want to have kids." I say.

"I might. If I didn't live here." says Gale. "Plus I want to get some at least once in my life. See if it's worth the result."

"Must be, if so many people do it." I reply blandly. Sex and lust are so far out of our daily desires in the twelfth district that even joking about it isn't funny.

Besides, Gale could easily find a wife if he wanted kids. Unlike me, he's tall, handsome, strong and smart. I'm just small for my age and a complete outcast. I can't help but feel jealous. None of the girls at school talk about me like they talk about Gale.

"Well, what do you want to do?" I ask. We can hunt, fish, or gather.

"Fish then gather." Gale replies. "Get something nice for tonight."

Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. Some people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to survive the next few weeks.


End file.
